


head over heels

by overtureenvelops



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:50:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3206519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overtureenvelops/pseuds/overtureenvelops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I dunno, English. The last time you tried to help me clean up you almost set the kitchen on fire."</i>
</p><p>In which Peggy is poised and put together in every aspect of her life...except when a certain waitress is around, apparently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	head over heels

“It’s really not a big deal, Peg,” Angie says, referring to the coffee stain she now sports on her uniform.

Peggy’s head hangs low from embarrassment as they walk up the stairs to their floor. “I’m so sorry, Angie, again. I had no idea it was even possible for a cup of coffee to fly that far."

“Hey, don’t even worry about it. I’m surprised someone hasn’t thrown a cuppa joe at me sooner,” Angie tells her, smiling softly. “And as for the stain, there happens to be this amazing new invention called dry cleaning. Ever heard of it?” she winks and nudges Peggy's shoulder with her own, making her chuckle as they arrive at Angie’s door. “Wanna come in? I think I got some schnapps left if you’re interested.”

“Oh, I really shouldn’t.”

“Peggy," Angie warns. "You owe me."

Before Peggy can blink the woman is inside, unbuttoning her uniform. “Make yourself at home," she says. "I’m gonna change.”

Peggy nods and stands in the entryway awkwardly for a moment before walking to the kitchen area, grabbing the schnapps from its shelf and taking a quick look over her shoulder before taking a swig.

“Starting without me, English?” Peggy hears from behind her, and she turns to the source of the words with her mouth open ready to reply.

She’s unprepared for the half naked Angie before her, though, and suddenly her eyes go comically wide as her grip loosens on the bottle, a whoosh of air escaping her lips as the bottle slips out of her hand and shatters on the floor.

Angie, looking shocked and confused in her bra and skirt, says, “Whoa, Peg! You alright?”

Without thinking, Peggy, heart still beating from the shock of seeing her friend less than decent, backs up until coming in contact with the kitchen counter. “Fine,” she says, her voice far more airy than usual. “You just…startled me, is all.”

Angie seems to accept the excuse as she bends down to pick up the larger shards of the bottle. “Well, so much for the schnapps, eh?”

All Peggy can do is nod and look to the ceiling.

* * *

They’re walking back from a movie and Peggy is exhausted, feet dragging while Angie talks animatedly beside her. Her and Jarvis have been out until dawn almost every night this week, and although she wanted nothing more at the end of the day than to settle into her room with a cup of tea and a good book, a certain waitress had appeared at her door begging for a night out. Peggy then, slowly growing incapable of saying no to the other woman, couldn’t very well deny the girl with the big blue eyes that she had grown so fond of.

She had fallen in and out of sleep during the film, taking time to respond to Angie’s whispered comments accordingly, and now in the clear, cold night of the city she once again feels her eyes drooping. Soon she begins to tune out the sounds of the city and focuses solely on the sound of her friend’s excitement. She closes her eyes and breathes in the crisp air, a smile settling on her lips. It’s peaceful, she thinks, here with Angie.

The peace doesn’t last long, however, and she suddenly feels herself toppling forward onto the concrete, hands reaching out to catch herself as she falls quickly and ungracefully, landing with a quiet, “Oomph.”

A hand is on her shoulder before she can fully register what happened, and her head is being tilted upward by a finger on her chin, forcing her to look into the blue eyes that convinced her to come out tonight in the first place. “Peggy? You hurt?”

“What happened?”

“The sidewalk is all busted up. You didn’t hear me warn you?”

Peggy blinks, too sleepy to be embarrassed. “I suppose not.”

“Oh, gosh, you’re bleeding,” Angie says, referring to the scrapes on Peggy’s palms. “Let’s get you home. Can you stand?” Peggy nods tiredly, feeling the pull of an arm around her waist lifting her to her feet.

She’s too tired to care that she leans on Angie’s shoulder all the way home.

* * *

The automat is empty except for the two of them, gabbing about their respective days, one of them being truer than the other (if Peggy was being honest, she had fought off three thugs in an alleyway earlier, but Angie didn’t need to know that). They reached a lull in conversation and Angie let out a small sigh, looking around the diner while Peggy took the opportunity to take in the other woman’s subtle beauty.

“Well, I better get cleanin’,” Angie says, breaking the silence and standing to clear their empty plates. “You should head home, Peg. It’s late and you got work in the morning.”

“Oh, no, it’s alright! Let me help you,” Peggy insists, grabbing their mugs and moving to stand beside Angie with a smile.

Angie narrows her eyes at the taller woman and smirks slightly. “I dunno, English. The last time you tried to help me clean up you almost set the kitchen on fire."

Peggy lets out a bark of laughter as a blush rises to her cheeks. “How was I to know the griddle was still on?”

They laugh together, leaning toward each other until Peggy is suddenly very aware of how close they are. She fights to not let her eyes drop to the other woman’s lips, and luckily she’s saved by Angie saying, “I’ll get you a rag.”

Soon, they settle into a comfortable silence as they go to work, refilling sugar canisters and wiping down tables. Moving around each other with grace and unspoken cues that make it seem as if they’ve been doing this forever.

Peggy, ready for her next task, looks up to ask Angie what else needs to be done when she sees the waitress bent over a table, her skirt riding up the backs of her thighs as she replaces the napkins. Mouth suddenly dry, she licks her lips and looks to the ceiling, biting the inside of her cheek and trying to rid her mind of wherever it’s going. She puts her hands on the table in front of her, taking a breath and trying to get her bearings.

After a deep breath, she’s ready to continue work and stands straight again, but not without knocking a lone fork onto the floor with a quiet clang. Rolling her eyes, she bends to pick it up, but misjudges her stance and hits her head on the underside of the table on her way back up with a loud _thwack_ and a muffled curse.

“Peg?” Angie’s voice calls from the other side of the restaurant.

“Over here,” Peggy replies dejectedly, a hand on the back of her head as she gives up and sits on the floor.

Peggy’s soon greeted with the sight of two feet and the sound of a muffled laugh. Angie bends to look under the table and giggles. “Doin’ alright?”

“I’m doing 'swell', as you would say,” Peggy says as she rolls her eyes.

“Aw, English,” Angie reaches out to brush the agent’s hair from her eyes. “Y’know, I’m starting to think you’re a bit accident prone.”

“Oh, really?” she deadpans.

Angie shoots her a smile, unfazed. “Let me get you an ice pack, honey.”

* * *

“Dammit!” Peggy shouts with a frustrated groan, her voice echoing through the busy automat and drawing the attention of the other diners. Thanks to an accidental flick of her wrist, her pie plate is now broken into bits on the tile floor.

“Whoa, Peg. It’s nothing to make a fuss about. I’ll just get you another one, okay?” Angie says reassuringly, patting her hand.

“No, it’s not that, I just—" she warily looks around to see if people are still staring. "I’m not normally like this, you know.”

“Like what?” Angie asks, turning to the counter behind her to grab a replacement. “A klutz?”

Peggy raises a brow, chin raising upward. “I was going to say _clumsy_.”

“Oh, please," the waitress says over her shoulder. "Same difference. Look, English, I’m used to it by now. You trip, you fall, you break things. You’re just being’ you. Nothin’ wrong with that.”

“No, but that’s the problem, Angie. I’m _not_ like this. I’ve _never_ been like this.”

Angie turns back around, handing Peggy another piece of pie and tilting her head in confusion. “How do you mean?”

“I am usually very put together. Graceful. Poised, even,” Peggy nods, smiling and hopeful, trying to convince the other woman.

Angie just laughs, her hands settling on her hips. “Poised? Peg, I’ve seen you eat, alright?” Peggy’s smile fades and she looks to her hands in her lap. “Hey, It’s not a big deal! You don’t have to defend yourself. I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

Peggy looks up cautiously. “You do?”

“Course! I think you’re the best gal in town,” Angie smiles, one hand on Peggy's arm, solid and caring.

Blushing and clearing her throat, Peggy looks down and says, “Well, thank you.”

Angie nods, grabbing the coffee pot for the jerk at table two. “Anytime, doll.”

* * *

Peggy is stumbling up the stairs of Griffith five hours past curfew, the effects of whatever her and Jarvis had been exposed to wearing off slowly. She drops her keys multiple times while trying to open her door, eventually giving up and just resting her head on the cool wood. She sighs, hazy thoughts suddenly turning to Angie.

 _God, she's pretty_ , Peggy thinks as she turns to lean her back on the door, looking to 3C and weighing her options. She sighs, trying to blink the haze from her eyes. “C’mon, Carter,” she whispers to herself.

Done with thinking, she takes a few hesitant steps to Angie’s apartment. Halfway there, though, she looks down too late to see the lace of her boot is undone. _Of course_ , she thinks, and before she knows it she’s on the floor with a thud.

Face deep into plush carpet, she sighs, resigned to spend the entire night in the hallway. She doesn’t really know how long she’s there before she hears a door open and someone whisper, “Peggy?”

Eyes wide at the sound of Angie’s voice, Peggy’s head pops up, neck craning to look up at the woman from her spot on the floor.

“What're you doin’ on the floor, English?” Angie chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief and crossing her arms over her chest. Her robe is short and satin; Peggy wants to reach out and touch.

Instead she manages a gruff, “Tripped,” and pushes herself to her feet.

Angie smiles. “Obviously. Can’t believe I asked,” her eyes narrow as Peggy smooths out the imaginary wrinkles in her coveralls. “What the heck are you wearing?”

Peggy scratches the side of her head. “Oh, just, uh…” she motions in the air, looking for words.

“You know what," Angie says, putting her hands up in mock surrender, "I’m not even gonna ask.”

It's silent for a moment before Peggy says, "Yes, well, I should get to bed."

"Yeah, probably," Angie muffles a yawn, turning back to her room. "Sweet dreams, Peg."

Peggy picks up the keys by her door, fumbling with them as she hears the other woman heading back to her room. She closes her eyes, weighing the pros and cons.

"Angie?" she calls quietly, keys halfway to the lock.

"Yeah?"

"I'm not a klutz."

"Alright, Peggy," Angie replies sleepily from her doorway. "Goodnight."

"No, wait," Peggy turns and walks quickly to stand in front of the other woman. "I'm not a klutz. In fact I'm usually very much in control of my mental and physical faculties."

Angie leans her head on the door jamb, sleepy eyes looking up at her. "Huh?"

"What I'm trying to say is that the only thing that's changed in my life recently is your presence."

"Okay, you're losin' me here."

Peggy smiles brightly, realization dawning across her features, " _You're_ what's making me clumsy."

Angie yawns again, tightening her robe around her, "Okay, Peg—"

"And it seems that I turn into some sort of bumbling idiot when I'm around you. Which is truly mind-boggling considering I rarely find myself tongue tied and most _definitely_ do not find myself falling at people's feet, _especially_ literally speaking—"

"Peggy—"

"—and now here I am at your door in the middle of the night making a scene and babbling like a fool—"

"Yep, you really are—"

"—but after all this time I _finally_ understand why I've been falling all over myself and that's because—"

" _English!_ " Angie says firmly.

"What?" Peggy responds, breathing heavily.

Angie just has a small, quiet smile on her face. "You talk too much."

Suddenly there are two hands weaving into Peggy's hair and pulling their mouths together, soft and sweet and in the middle of the hallway at 3am. Peggy's breath catches, and she smiles into the kiss, hands grasping at the other woman's waist and pulling her closer. They part for air, eventually, leaning their foreheads together.

"That, my friend," Angie says, "Was _definitely_ not clumsy."


End file.
